


Love Lost

by yourgirl



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourgirl/pseuds/yourgirl
Summary: Diverts from Batman v Superman. The world thinks Superman is dead. Bruce enslaves Clark without Diana's knowledge. Neither one of them meant to fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be Justice League spoilers and spoilers of any kind generally. Read with caution please and thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi beautiful reader this story has potential damaging themes like rape and dubious consent please proceed caution love you thanks . Seporah.

“Miss Prince.”

“Yes, Alfred.” For a warrior princess around as long as world war one, Diana has the softest eyes he has every seen, woman or otherwise. “Can I help you?” She is ready to leave but she has all the time in the world. It’s charming.

Alfred finds himself frustrated at his inability to betray Bruce, even for the greater good. “Have a good night.”

“You as well,” The smile widens, no malice in it. As a Gothamite for decades, Alfred isn’t used to such honesty in anyone, human or otherwise.

As her boots click away, Alfred prays for Master Bruce’s soul. He is perhaps too far gone for redemption.

\----------

“Clark,” Bruce hums absentmindedly after his meeting with Diana about the meta-humans. “How was your day?”

If the constant enslavement has weakened said Kryptonian he doesn’t show it. “It was good, Bruce.” Is the whisper quiet reply. “You?”

“Fine.” Superman’s _death_ has the world in a panic, uproar, mourning. “I saw Lois today.”

Clark’s head snaps up. A hint of life in inhuman blue eyes, “Bruce. I swear…”

“She is wearing that ring of yours.” Bruce shakes his head in disapproval. “Why is she doing that?”

“I gave her that as a symbol of our love.”

“Dear god, Clark,” Bruce puts aside the latest reports his executives sent over and scoffs. “Do you not have shame?”

“I love her.”

“You believe that,” Bruce says in awe. “You truly do.”

“We can never be together. But…” Clark’s head is bowed again.

“You got that right.” Bruce loosens his tie and is walking toward his unwilling roommate. “I will make sure you never hurt another human again.”

“My mother, Bruce, please.” Clark begs as Bruce uses the Kryptonite chains to force him on his feet.

“She is not your mother. You don’t have a mother.” Bruce reminds Clark, who shudders when their bodies collide suddenly.

“Please, Bruce, you promised.” Clark ignores the soft kisses on his jaw, the proprietary hand on his waist. “You promised you would look out for her. Without me she is defenseless.”

“She is fine.” Bruce keeps his promises. He would never let anything happen to Martha, Lois. Diana doesn’t really need his protection but he will look out for her as well as a comrade. Superman is his. “Your life is mine.” He informs Clark, as he does every night. After everything that’s happened, he needs to control this creature and teach him a lesson. He can’t just fly in from god knows where and control Bruce’s world.

Clark used to wonder how his life would end. In the grand scheme of things, something has to be strong enough to kill him. He thought the monster Lex created was the one thing that could destroy superman but here, as Bruce caresses his body with a lover’s hands and whispers in his ears, this might just do him in. “Whatever you want, Bruce.”

Bruce has been to the finest colleges, and during his experimental phase, he even tried his hand with the not so gentler sex. Even his freshmen buddies from the posh families that could rival the Wayne name don’t compare to Clark. There is something about Kryptonian physiology that refuses to be anything but perfect, despite the lack of sunlight and the persistence of Kryptonite chains. When Clark looks up at Bruce, through those eyelashes, Bruce almost forgets that the purpose of this is punishment and not a romantic encounter.

“No,” Clark hates it when Bruce has him on his back. “Please.” He prefers on all fours, when he doesn’t have to stare up into dark eyes which threaten to see right through him. “Bruce I am begging you.”

“What are you begging for?” Bruce kind of wants to find Lois, and wants to make her watch. _You are wearing his ring but he’s taking my cock. He belongs to me more than he ever did to you._ “Describe it to me.”

“Not like this.” Clark gasps when Bruce pins his wrists up above his head in a painful grasp.

“You are still wet from when I had you this morning.” Bruce’s tone suggests as if he is speaking of some boring meeting, not when he fucked Clark up against his bedroom wall.

Clark’s cheeks color. “Not face to face.” He can’t stand Bruce’s eyes. They are too much. Too powerful. Too intense.

“So you can think of something else?” Bruce growls. The someone else is implied.

“What?” Clark manages to look virginal even in this position, “No Bruce, gods, fuck. Just do what you want.”

“I always do.” And this is how the torture starts. Bruce doesn’t beat him like he did that day, when they fought. He doesn’t hurt Clark, or make it bruise, or anything too painful. He makes it feel good. “Tell me you love me.”

“Bruce.” Clark hates the forehead kisses more than anything. It’s basically the only thing in all this Lois can compare with. The actual kiss is rough, with Bruce’s tongue mimicking what he plans on doing to Clark just a few minutes later, fucking in and out of his mouth in an imitation. “Fuck.”

“Say it.” Bruce gets angry but never forceful, “Clark I swear to god…”

“I love you Bruce.” The worst part is, Clark doesn’t have to fight to say it. It slips out nice and easy, like a lustful moan or a declaration of allegiance. “Happy?”

“Mmm.” Bruce’s tone suggests he won’t stop until he kills Clark. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I am not an actor, Bruce.”

“Then you better learn, Clark,” Bruce threatens, “Or…”

“Or what?” Clark knows better than to ask but he does. “Please. Kindly, Mr. Wayne. What happens when I don’t play along.”

“Or no more,” Bruce thrusts his hips against Clark’s.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Clark gasps as a pleasurable feeling overwhelms his body. He fights back a moan. Fuck.

“You tell me.” Bruce places a reverent kiss on a perfectly sculpted cheekbone. “What happens when I don’t satisfy your addiction?”

“I am not a sex addict.” Clark blushes so prettily, Bruce has to use everything he’s learned over the years about self-control not to just take what he wants.

It’s not about what Bruce wants. It’s about teaching this insolent alien a lesson.

“Bruce, I know you’re upset.” Clark is rambling incoherently. “I know I can never make up for my mistakes. Please, if anything, just be careful out there. You don’t know what kind of freaks lurk in the darkness.”

“If I’m dead you’re free.” Bruce promises. Alfred will make sure of that. He doesn’t trust Clark but he trusts anyone else out there even less. With the possible exception of Diana. Superman is too powerful a weapon to be lurking free.

“I…” Clark looks so upset, Bruce has to place a chaste kiss on petal lips to soothe him. “Bruce that’s not what I meant. This farce has to stop. How long until you’re bored?”

“Of this?” Bruce leans forward to suck a kiss on a pale throat. Despite the Kryptonite’s effect on Clark, his hickey’s never last.

Bruce is considering messing with Clark’s healing scientifically just to freaking leave a decent mark.

“I don’t know how to help you.” Clark is so pretty like this. “If something happens, Bruce if I promise to submit, will you please take the chains off?”

Bruce leans back, smirking at his toy, “And you said you couldn’t act.”


	2. Chapter 2

Diana believes Bruce to be a good man. She thinks. To this day she doesn’t really get what a good man is supposed to be like. Steve was one. Bruce is one? Superman was one?

Bruce runs an absentminded hand through his hair. “We are all freaks.”

“Yes.” Diana replies, her accent still not really something Bruce can decipher. Where is she from? “Maybe this world needs freaks.”

“And a warrior god from the sea. And a child. And a robot.”

“And a giant bat.” Diana plays along. “And a…”

“And a…” Bruce interrupts her, “Warrior princess with unknown origins.”

“We all have unknown origins, Bruce.” Diana never really gets defensive. Bruce is thankful for that.

“I just hope we are enough.” Bruce knows there is a new threat coming. He can feel it.

“Nothing can ever making up for Superman’s loss,” Diana manages to be compassionate despite all these decades of walking this planet. Bruce can’t find it in himself to feel anything. “But we can try.”

“Yes,” Bruce bows his head. “Good meeting.” They have been trying to pinpoint the locations of the meta-humans. Rather difficult because they are freaks like Bruce and Diana, and not easy to find.

“I can’t believe I am meddling, but maybe it’s time to start dating.” Diana sounds hesitant. Bruce doesn’t let himself enjoy it too much. “I have a feeling you’re a little lonely.”

“Are you offering?” Bruce replies. It buys him a nanosecond of time.

“You couldn’t handle it.” Diana is always so comfortable in her skin. “I mean a real girl.”

“You count as one, I’m sure.”

“Bruce…”

“I go on a lot of dates.” Bruce smirks, hollow. It’s one area he can beat Diana in, dating around. It never goes anywhere now-a-days because there’s a Kryptonian in his bedroom, all chained up, but the sport is good fun. Watching them stammer around for a little bit of attention.

“A real date.” Diana says, already having given up. “Alfred doesn’t count.”

“Now I am offended.” Alfred has arrived to see her off. “How rude miss Prince.”

“Alfred I love you,” Diana is sweet as sugar, which can kill you, but sugar nonetheless, and Alfred is charmed. Bruce wonders what he would have to do for Diana to love him, or to charm Alfred this way, but shakes the thought. He has someone waiting at home before he suits up and fights the weeds of Gotham from growing a little too tall; which they had in his absence when he was dealing with the Superman issues.

Now all he wants to deal with is Superman and he wants everything else to just fuck off. Irony is delicious.

Alfred gives Bruce a disappointed look as he disappears with Diana and her kind eyes. Bruce ignores him. Alfred never has an exotic lover, or a lover period, Bruce is sure, or he’s blocked it out because gross. Father figure.

“Clark?” Bruce is always a little nervous in case his roommate has figured out a way to mess with the chains and is now waiting for Bruce with heat vision or god knows what else.

Bruce sees a sleeping Kryptonian instead, with sheets pooled around his waist. Bruce’s mouth waters as if he’s seen cake. He doesn’t even like cake. He loves Clark. He loves his skin, his mouth, the curve of his hip as the sheet threatens to fall off. Bruce hasn’t been this infatuated since… God he doesn’t want to think about it. Only criminals get him this interested and he wants to beat them not fuck them.

“Bruce?” Clark is a light sleeper, and the gentle calling of his name has roused him, so Bruce can’t enjoy the view too much.

“You expecting someone else?” Bruce can’t help the jealousy. Lois Lane is in danger. Or she might be if Bruce didn’t live by a strict code.

“No,” Clark pouts a little and Bruce is only a man, not some alien with heightened everything. He pounces making the creature in his bed yelp.

“Did you miss me?” Bruce wraps himself around Clark as tightly as possible. Which is pretty tightly.

“No.” Clark mewls when Bruce’s Rolex catches on his chain. “Go shower please.” He gets weaker and weaker everyday because of the chains, or Bruce has gotten stronger, Clark doesn’t know.

“You come with me.” Bruce sucks on Clark’s bottom lip.

“I have been here all day, I am clean enough.”

“You’re dirty.” Bruce makes sure he is firmly in between parted thighs, “You are a dirty, bad boy.”

“Am not,” Clark gasps as Bruce holds his wrists with one hand, and fingers his hole with another, the brute, “B-Bruce.”

“That’s mine.” Bruce is stoic and firm and everything Clark has never been, just pretended to be as Superman. “I was inside you, no one else. You belong to me.”

“Nnhh.” Clark sees a flash of light from where his eyes are closed. “Fuck.”

“Mine.” Bruce states easily, adding another finger. “Clark, I can do this all night.”

Clark knows he can’t. Batman needs to patrol. If Clark holds out then maybe Bruce will stay in, with Clark, where it’s safe.

“Come on, Clark,” Bruce smirks and Clark can see through half lidded eyes, that he’s in trouble when Bruce makes that face. “You knew you were going to get in trouble with looks like yours. Might as well be with a man you know and trust. You like being my toy? Something for me to use? My eager little slut? It would explain why you are always wet for me to use whenever I come home. Just a pretty little hole for daddy to fill.”

“Oh Jesus,” Clark comes without any stimulation to his cock, just ejaculates all over Bruce’s obscenely priced suit.

“Good boy.” Bruce looks very pleased. “Keep behaving yourself for daddy, Clark.”

“Bruce,” When Clark catches his breath, Bruce is already out the shower five minutes later. “Don’t go out, please.”

“Don’t do that, Clark,” Bruce is in his undershirt, which he wears under the Batsuit. “I don’t need false concern.”

“Please, after Doomsday, who knows what kind of people will be doing what. Stay inside for a few months, maybe even a year.” Clark knows his pleas fall on deaf ears.

“I don’t think you suck cock enough.” Bruce stands in front of Clark now who is sitting on the bed like a bench. “Let’s keep that mouth occupied.”

“I suck yours plenty.” Clark sighs and leans forward to undo Bruce’s pants when his hair is caught in a grip.

“You know how you look,” Bruce hisses, “and what you can do, and you use it to get to people and give false hope. Don’t try that nonsense with me. I am better than that.”

“Then let me go.” Clark suggests. “Or better yet, bring someone else in here and let them fuck me.” He isn’t stupid enough to think Bruce is in love with him or anything, Clark knows better, but Bruce is a billionaire, old money. He is possessive of everything and everyone in his life, and now Clark has stumbled on this island of insanity and Bruce thinks he owns him.

“What did you say?” Bruce sounds like a demon when he’s proper upset. He uses his steely grip in Clark’s hair to force him higher. His dick forgotten.

“If you really are better than that, then bring someone else.” Clark pushes, ignoring the building headache. He really is weak with the kryptonite chains. “Let them use me while you watch.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” Bruce threatens.

“I look forward to it.” Clark is so tired of Bruce’s tantrums. “I am tired of you.”

Bruce looks as if he’s punched, hard. Clark regrets what he’s said, but before he can try to talk to the bat, he’s disappeared into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce is furious and drinking alone. What else is new?

“More, mister Wayne?” The barkeep doesn’t ask what it is Bruce is in the mood for. He knows better after all these years of constant patronage.

“Please,” Bruce looks handsome and he tips even more handsomely. After a night of beating criminals into a bloody pulp, he should be getting his dick sucked by lips so perfect they could put supermodels to shame. Hell Clark could have _been_ a supermodel. He decided to be a bloody reporter instead. Less attention that way probably. God knows Bruce wouldn’t have been able to ignore Clark’s photo-shoots. Calvin Klein underwear maybe. Or why not completely naked?

“I could take care of that for you.” Speaking of models, what is this girl doing here?

Bruce grunts at the twenty something, wondering if he could be her father, and laughs at himself, and her audacity to grab his crotch. “Miss?”

“Elaine,” The girl giggles, “You can call me Eli.” She knows who he is, not really but she knows the Wayne name, clearly.

Sounds like Lane. Bruce’s expression darkens for a split second but Eli doesn’t notice it in the darkness of the bar. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a shitty place like this, Eli.”

“I could ask you the same, Mr. Wayne.” Oh right, people don’t know he’s man bat.

“Lost, alone, abandoned.” Bruce’s pout is suitably pathetic, and she giggles in response.

“Come to my place.” Eli invites a stranger over, and if Bruce really was her father he would be appalled. He isn’t, he thinks. He’s fucked every girl in Gotham, or tries to anyway, and there is a good chance one of his swimmers took. “And we can do something about your loneliness.”

Bruce is so mad at Clark, he might just go with her and fuck her good. Something inside him snaps, or did a while ago anyway. Or maybe it’s a bunch of things which keep snapping with every step. Every stupid fucking thing people do to piss him off, like her dainty manicured hand which feels so wrong. He wants Clark. He wants Clark’s lips, and his body, and his smooth creamy skin. Her smooth creamy skin isn’t good enough. Bruce wants the inhuman he’s keeping hostage.

“Mr. Wayne?” She looks even younger now, proper eighteen. Bruce asks to check ID just to be sure. She just turned legal so he is safe. “My boyfriend doesn’t mind.” She coos at him.

Bruce turns to where a young man is stone drunk with his frat buddies, and in an insane moment thinks to pick him up too, but the thought of any man touching Clark is something he just can’t handle right now, call it the whiskey burning through him like molasses. “Not tonight sweetheart.”

“Okay.” She is pretty sure her tuition is paid for so she’s cool with whatever.

“Do you get wet?” Bruce asks her when they are in his car, the driver already knows where they need to go. “Would you, for me?”

“I would do anything.” She moans a little at the intensity of his gaze. He does not look like this in the media. He is a vapid aging pretty boy, not this, this creature. This beast. She will get the fucking of her life, she is sure of it. And a wad of cash is to be expected, she is sure of it. Her boyfriend is cute but he can’t fuck for shit. Bruce Wayne surely brings experience to the table, and those muscles… Even that Tom Ford suit doesn’t hide them very well.

“Good girl.” Bruce tries to hide his resentment behind his smile, he does. She is a ginger like Lois, he should have tried to go for a blond or something. This bar is seedy but it is close to Gotham university and students occasionally come and drink here.

“Your place then.” She is excited. Dorm rooms are rank at best, and Wayne manor will be a nice change.

“If you don’t mind, miss…” Bruce has already forgotten.

“Eli,” The girl frowns, old age or is he just drunk?

Bruce leads her to what he is starting to think of as his love nest, he hopes Clark is up. Alfred is disappointed and shakes his head. “Breakfast?” He asks before Bruce leads Eli to where he can almost taste Clark already.

“Not yet.” Bruce smirks at Eli.

“Please tell me she is eighteen.” Alfred begs Bruce, who nods in affirmation. A significant portion of his life is dedicated to making sure Alfred is appeased or all hell will break lose.

“Dear lord,” Alfred massages his head as Bruce disappears with a helpless girl, and wonders if she will come back sane and if he will deal with the lawsuit or the body.

\----------

“Bruce?” Clark is beside himself. “You are late, I was worried. Did you get hurt…”

“Oh,” The girl with Bruce blushes at the naked man in Bruce’s bed. “Wow. Kinky.” He is younger than Bruce, and… beautiful. Chained. She feels herself getting wet at the sight and she didn’t get dressed up for such a night but her panties are soaked. Thank god she shaved. Her bf is nothing special but she likes to keep looking nice. She is a first year now and high school is behind her after all.

“Yes.” Bruce gives Clark a look so hungry it’s like the entire world has ceased to exist.

“You made your point.” Clark looks frightened, “Let her go.”

“She hasn’t fucked you yet.” Bruce admits it. He couldn’t bring himself to bring a man here. He is weak. This girl will have to do. She is not his girl of choice but, she will be adequate. Bruce imagines Diana having his way with Clark and somehow he doesn’t think he can quite make that happen yet.

“I will do anything,” Clark willingly gets on his knees, and Bruce might just propose marriage for the sight, pledge his billions, “let her go.”

“Unf,” Eli has been forgotten, but she makes her presence known. “Hot.” Billionaires have been known to be eccentric, but this she gets. So Bruce Wayne has some model chained up in his lakeside. Eli gets it. She might just chain up her bf now after seeing this. She has a feeling he won’t look this good.

“Isn’t he?” Bruce turns to her and makes a conspiratorial sound. “Right?” He giggles a little. He must have drank a lot for a man his size to get wrecked like this.

“Bruce, please.” Clark pleads.

“Suck him,” Bruce orders Eli.

“Gladly.” Eli doesn’t care for giving head, but she doesn’t mind him, his clean scent, those innocent blue eyes, fuck. “Where did you find him?” And where can Eli get one?

“Fell from heaven.” Bruce doesn’t mean to sound all guttural, Clark brings out the thug in him.

“Yum,” Eli smiles prettily, “Relax sweetie,” She pushes Clark, who falls easily at the slightest push. He has obviously been drugged or something. “What material is this?” She fingers the chains which are glowing green and pulsing.

“Don’t know.” Bruce shrugs, “found it on a BDSM site.”

“Roger that.” Eli takes the big, big cock in her mouth and damn it is perfect, like straight out of a romance novel she doesn’t admit to reading. She has to really open up her mouth to take him in without choking. Good thing she has been practicing. He even tastes good.

After a few minutes of sucking, he is still soft, and whimpering as if in pain, Eli pulls off with a final suck. “Brucie?” She turns to where said playboy is watching, glaring.

“Mhmm.”

“He doesn’t like me.” Eli pouts. The model is sad, and has one arm over his perfect face. “I think he’s sick.” He is shaking, shivering violently.

“He’s a good actor.” Whenever Bruce sucks Clark the Kryptonian gushes wet like a fountain.

“Oh is he?” Eli says, interestedly, “Would I have seen you in anything?” Maybe that’s why he’s in this subversive position. To get his dues in before he makes it big. For Bruce’s Hollywood connections maybe? He is a powerful man and probably has ties with anyone in any industry.

“Oh you have seen him.” Bruce smirks, that dark grin which makes Eli uncomfortable. “Plenty. Why don’t you go outside and Alfred will send you home, hon.”

“Oh,” Eli makes a disappointed sound. “We’re done?”

“You are.” Bruce cocks his head to the side. “Good luck with school. What’s your major.”

“Science.”

“That’s cute.” Bruce laughs and gestures to the door. “Out.”

“Sorry Mr. Wayne.” Eli feels all sad, like she’s disappointed her father. “Something’s wrong with him. He won’t get hard.”

Bruce is fixated on his bedmate again, his eyes dark and focused. Somehow Eli wonders if she is better off not having gone through this.

\----------

“Now what?” Bruce is looming over Clark, dark and foreboding. “You said you wanted someone else.”

“You have selective hearing.” Clark hates the tears in his eyes, hates that Bruce kisses them away. “Did it have to be a child?”

“You heard her, she was in university.”

“Jesus.” Clark sighs as Bruce helps him sit up. “Bruce, are you hurt?” He always asks. “Anything special tonight?”

“Not much.” Bruce shrugs, whiskey already wearing off. He craves something different now. “Might I remind you it’s a good thing, at least for you, if I died.”

Clark is tired of arguing with Bruce, so he proceeds to check his body for injuries. “Jesus.” He notices the gash on his inner thigh, “Fuck.”

Something about Clark swearing really gets to Bruce. “Okay, lets.”

“You need to do something about that, how did that happen?”

“Um,” Bruce’s cheeks color a little and Clark is mortified, “I might have done that myself?”

“What? How?”

“Accidentally.” It happens. Once every decade. One is hanging upside down, and kind of aims wrong because, one is thinking of something at home, and not the situation at hand.

One is distracted?

“Go to Alfred.” Clark snaps, as Bruce starts placing kisses down his chest.

“Oh he will just fret. It’s not that deep.”

“Go,” Clark’s voice gets all deep. Bruce is drunk. He obeys.

“Oh I live to regret.” Alfred cites some poem after. Bruce is tired of trying to please this man.

“I sent her home, didn’t I?”

“How did you do this?”

“Big bad thug,” Bruce isn’t wrong. He has been big and bad tonight.

“Let him go,” Alfred pleads again and again. “Please, Master Bruce.”

“He’s a menace to society.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Alfred argues as he expertly stitches the wound distressingly near Bruce’s balls.

“Let him go yourself.”

“We both know I won’t do that.” Alfred says, his tone laced with self-hatred.

“Then shut it, old man.” Bruce doesn’t bother pulling his pants on. “I have a date.”

“Breaking him will accomplish what exactly?” Alfred ignores the Superman boxers.

“We both know this is more about me at this point and less about the world.” Bruce’s back is more scar tissue and less actual skin. Alfred balks at the sight no matter how many times he’s seen it. “I need this.” Him. Bruce needs him. He needs to control him and his alien power, his innocence, possibly rob him of it, until he is as cynical as Bruce or as fractured as him.

“I’m going to go lie down.” Alfred waits up for Bruce all night and his sleep schedule is just as fucked up.

“Night, Alfred.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Mr. Wayne.” Lois is surprised to see Bruce, even if it is his building she never expected to see him actually working and out and about. He has a reputation.

There is a dark expression on his face, but Lois must have imagined it. There is a pleasant smile all of a sudden. “Do I know you?”

“Lois Lane.” She introduces herself, as if Bruce doesn’t know everything about her, from what her social number is, all the way to what her preference in conditioners is. “I know Clark Kent was here talking to you, investigating something.”

“He was?” Bruce tries hard to keep a neutral face. It’s hard because he can still taste Clark on his tongue. “About what?”

“That’s what I am here to ask you.” Lois says slowly, buying into the playboy persona. Thank god. Once a person hits thirty it’s hard to keep that up.

“Huh,” Bruce scratches his head. “Ok. Let’s have lunch then.” He eyes the modest diamond on her ring finger and has a sudden urge to punch a damn wall. Clark shouldn’t have done that. He has a much deeper bond with Bruce and this _commitment_ he’s made with Lois is offensive, frankly. “My that’s a stunning ring.”

“Oh, yes.” Lois makes a distraught sound, clutching her hand to her chest as if it’s Clark himself. “He’s deceased.”

Bruce knows. He’s had Clark’s body dug up, resuscitated. He is very intimate with everything Clark Kent. What conditioner he prefers to his now defunct social number. “I’m so sorry, Miss Lane.”

“Me too,” Lois doesn’t seem to be used to it. Bruce’s eyes narrow. She better get used to it. She will never see Clark again. Bruce will make sure of it. “So where are we going?” Bruce blinks. Oh yes, he offered her lunch. “Do you have a preference?” She does. Bruce is surprised to know she knows this area. Hazards of being a reporter.

It’s a modest restaurant and Lois declines Bruce’s offer to pay but he does anyway. She is very professional and asks all the right questions. “Did he seem upset?”

“Oh no,” Bruce pretends to try to remember. “He was not.” Clark was glowing with righteous rage as he investigated the Bat vigilante. Now Bruce investigates Clark’s body. On the nightly.

“There has to be something else. Something he said.” Lois is so pretty and innocent underneath all that polished intelligence. Bruce can see why Clark fell for her. Oh well. Too bad.

“He left in a hurry.” Bruce explains. “He had to go somewhere. I never saw him again.” Not in those baggy clothes again anyway. After Clark’s _death_ Bruce likes to keep him undressed and primed for fucking. Clark has a new purpose in his second life. To satisfy Bruce’s every whim.

“Something inside me says he’s still alive.” Lois sighs, fingering her ring with her right hand.

“Death does that to a person,” Bruce is even sincere about it. God knows he sometimes pretends to this day his parents are still alive. They aren’t. And Lois needs to move on from her fiancé’s death. Maybe onto something more suitable. Like any of the three and a half billion _earth_ men Bruce doesn’t like to cum inside. “You need to move on, Miss Lane.”

“I could never.” Lois is like a mule. A beautiful mule. Bruce wishes Diana was here so he could have her hit Lois. “Till death do us part.”

“Cliff is dead.”

“Clark,” Lois snaps, but then composes herself. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Bruce means that too. She doesn’t know what _property of Bruce Wayne means_. She will learn. Everyone eventually does. “If there is anything I can do, please let me know, Miss Lane.”

“Actually there is access to certain Gotham city news archives which I just can’t seem to get my hands on…”

“You just have to say it and I will make it happen.” Bruce says as he starts to walk away.

“Should I call you, or you will call me?” Lois tries to chase after Bruce, but high heels and obscenely long muscled legs is not a good combo.

“Let’s leave it to the gods.”

\----------

“Guess who I met today.”

“Another sixteen year old?”

Clark often wondered what being weak and human would feel like but this is beyond human. This is sub-human, and not fair, frankly, what Bruce is doing to him. Clark is starting to lose his mind, the chain is starting to mess with his very biology. Something tells him this is exactly what Bruce wants.

“Lois Lane.” Bruce grins like a shark, and seems to enjoy Clark’s violent flinch. “I could have her killed and no one would know.”

“You wouldn’t.” Clark affirms. There is good in Bruce. He believes it. There is good in all mankind but a man with Bruce’s abilities who saves all those people every night has to have all that good. It’s the only thing keeping Clark going.

“Why not?” Bruce growls, and it’s disconcerting when he doesn’t have the cowl on. “She thinks she has claim over you. Who the hell is she?”

“She is innocent.” Clark ignores the bile rising up inside him. “Bruce your moral code dictates against it, remember.”

“She shouldn’t have given her that ring, Clark,” Bruce paces a little and then pounces, making Clark flinch with fear. “That interferes with what we have.”

“The ring is meaningless.” It really is now. Clark is legally dead and with that the promise the ring brings is over. “Please, Bruce.”

“Make a new promise to me, then.” Bruce whispers in Clark’s neck, “You will never be hers.”

“I will never be hers.” Clark is so broken, so tainted, he could never be a good husband to Lois. He can only be this plaything Bruce wants.

“Good boy.” Bruce is satisfied. “How could I ever want you dead? I should have plucked you out the sky the instant I saw you and made you my trophy.”

“Better late than never,” Clark responds weakly, making Bruce chuckle.

“Exactly, now up, daddy needs a date.”

“What?” Clark says, panicked. “Bruce, someone might recognize me. Lois…”

“I took care of her.” She is unconscious in her hotel room as they speak. Bruce made sure of that. “You need fresh air, Clark.”

“Bruce,” Clark moans. “Please. Don’t. Whatever you have planned, don’t.”

“It’s nothing too taxing.” Bruce promises. “Just sit on my lap and look pretty.” It’s a seedy club and one can’t get in without a date. Bruce would have taken some random but why should he when he has a live-in toy?

“How did she look?” Clark asks as Bruce forces him to dress in designer clothes he’s had shipped in which fit him perfectly.

Bruce shrugs, “Mopey and annoying. Still looking for you.”

“Don’t let anything happen to her.” Clark doesn’t even recognize himself in the mirror. He looks like a model for a high end fashion company. He used to laugh at men like those.

“You are dead. You have bigger problems. My protection extends to your mother.” Bruce only cares about Martha Kent because… well, Martha Wayne. That’s it. The woman reminds of his own mother.

“If anything happens to Lois…”

“What will you do?” Bruce grabs Clark possessively, “Enlighten me, Mr. Kent.”

“I don’t know what I would do, Bruce,” Clark looks so perfectly broken, Bruce has to fight not to throw him up against the glass window, but Alfred might see. Not the kind of voyeurism Bruce is into.

“I won’t hurt her.” Bruce finds himself promising. He was always a sucker for a perfectly symmetrical face. “I won’t protect her, but I won’t go out of my way to hurt her, happy?”

“Yes,” Clark takes in a deep breath. He is so exhausted all of a sudden his knees buckle.

“Easy, doll-face.” Bruce’s arm around Clark’s waist tightens, “We have a whole night ahead of us. Call me sir outside, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Clark places both hands on Bruce’s massive shoulders.

“Good boy.” Bruce leads Clark outside, the heat their bodies create together is delicious. “You might just survive this, Clark.”

Clark disagrees, but he has a feeling what he thinks doesn’t matter anymore.

\----------

“Where are you taking him?” Alfred narrows his eyes at Bruce, and Clark has a feeling he’s the only one really allowed to do that and get away with it.

“We’re going on a date.” Bruce grins wide and happy at Alfred, who doesn’t seem to be buying it.

“Master Clark?” Alfred turns to the other male, who is downright shivering, because the chains seem more painful by the damn second, grating into his very skin. “Alright?”

“I am fine, Alfred.” For a second, Clark wants to tell the other man to fucking release him, but he can do this. He can survive this. For Bruce and himself. He can save Bruce.

If they have any chance of building a team, him Diana and Bruce then they need to have this relationship of trust and Bruce won’t trust him if he goes running to Alfred, so no, Clark won’t escape this bondage just yet. Clark needs to know the person he wants to team up with isn’t just another Luthor, a manic billionaire who wants to enslave mankind. Bruce is different. Clark needs to prove it to himself.

“What is this supposed to prove, exactly?” Alfred stares at the couple, at the sheer stupidity he is staring at, “Please, enlighten me.”

“We are going out.”

“It’s a date,” Clark tries to breathe normally. He thinks he is going to pass out.

“I give up.” Alfred can’t give up on Bruce but he says it to convince someone. He’s not sure who.

“Don’t stay up, Alfred.” Bruce says cheerfully.

“Yeah right.” Alfred says under his breath. He regrets the day he took this job. It was supposed to be until he found a professorship. He thinks. He can’t remember… It’s been a long time. He is starting to think he came with the furniture.

\----------

“Wow,” Harley is wearing a gold, sequined bra, and looks positively stunning. If Bruce didn’t know who she was and who she belonged to, and who belonged to her, he would have thought about her in a romantic sense.

Bruce hasn’t been that stupid in a long time.

“What did you do to him?” Harley asks Bruce as Clark’s head lolls on his shoulder. “I am asking, for a friend.” She mutters, annoyed. Clearly Joker has been missing for a while. Bruce knows. He has been looking.

“Joker gave me something special.” Bruce’s eyes widen comically, as they always do when a person of interest takes an interest. “I am looking for him.”

“Good luck.” Harley coos at Clark next. “Hey sweetie. Come to mommy.”

“He’s more of a daddy’s boy.” Bruce keeps his grip tight and his eyes blank. “His modeling agency has more though. Does mommy like them Prada?”

“Oh is this Prada?” Harley admires Clark’s shirt, “Mommy likes them loyal.” She pouts. “I miss my husband.” She is miserable without Joker, and even when he’s present. “Where’s Batman when you need him?”

“Fuck Batman he’s ruining this city.” Bruce says vacantly.

“He’s the only one Puddin listens to.” Harley whines, absently fingering Clark’s nipple through his shirt, frowning when she touches a chain. “What’s this then?”

“He came like this with the agency,” Bruce shrugs. “Call me when Joker comes around. His drugs are the best drugs.”

“What a mess,” Clark comments when Harley’s interest has been caught in something else.

“You’re not in metropolis anymore.” Bruce takes a shot, but nothing too much. “She’s one of the worst, though. Joker’s girl.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Not if you’re lucky.” Bruce’s eyes get all haunted, and Clark’s hands all soothing.

“Hey,” Clark rubs Bruce’s shoulder. “Forget him.”

Bruce laughs sarcastically. “Okay.”

“No,” Clark presses close against Bruce, “Tell me what I can do.”

“Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.” Clark is his prisoner but he’s a reporter, and unfortunately someone Bruce still trusts above everyone. It’s nice to not have to do this alone for once.

Bruce has been alone for a while.

“This was supposed to be our date.” Clark huffs indignantly. “Take me somewhere nice, come on.”

“I am working.” A part of Bruce wants to display Clark in front of all these people and their hungry eyes. Make him suck Bruce’s dick while everyone watches. Those pretty lips all sticky with Bruce’s cum.

“Nice dinner first.” Clark mumbles, the chains are killing him tonight. “Come on, Bruce.” Something about Joker really bothers Bruce. He can tell. “I will let you do that thing you like.”

“All of it.” Bruce likes doing everything to Clark.

“Yes sir,” Clark blinks up at Bruce, knowing it drives the man crazy. “Come on.”

“You were made for this.” Bruce groans and leans in for a kiss. “Being someone’s toy.”

Bruce is happy again, no longer thinking about whatever it was that made him feel so depressed. Clark is fine, and back to thinking about his own excruciating pain. “Maybe you could loosen these chains a little?” He whimpers when one catches on his waist extra tightly.

“Not a chance.” Bruce likes that Clark is in pain because of him. Likes that he caused it. He’s hurting someone he owns. It’s a nice thought. Someone so pure and angelic is aching and Bruce did that. Bruce owns Superman, and the world can see.

Bruce has outdone himself this time.

\----------

Lois wakes from the best sleep she’s had in a while. No nightmares of Clark, and it makes her feel guilty. It’s the only time she gets to see him anymore, in her dreams.

She is a bad fiancé.

She collects herself, her mouth dry, and is surprised at the time on her hotel clock. It’s late. She must have slept for hours and hours. She gets dressed and decides to treat herself to grab some dinner and then she can get back to work. Her heart aches when she catches a glimpse of her own ring in the Gotham’s dirty air. She misses Clark so much her heart aches.

She walks around aimlessly and then blinks at the view in a high end restaurant’s window. Bruce Wayne having dinner with… Clark. He looks different, guarded and sickly, but content, maybe? Is she dreaming? He is dressed in an obscenely expensive outfit. No, it’s some model. Bruce loves them. She rushes to the door. She’s dreaming. She must confirm.

The maitre d gives her a bored look. “Name and reservation.”

“Bruce Wayne.”

The man sighs. Looks her up and down and then sends his companion inside to confirm. She’s back almost instantly. “Mr. Wayne is not expecting you.”

“Who is he with?” Lois asks breathlessly, and at the bland response, she rushes back outside and to the window, and it’s someone else. Another man. Laughing it up with Bruce Wayne. He spots her this time and waves at her in recognition. She waves back dumbly.

She needs a vacation.

\----------

“Wow,” The man across from Bruce eyes him judgmentally, “Pathetic much. Hiding from your boyfriend’s wife?”

“Bank account number,” Bruce slides his card across, and gets it back just as quickly. “You won’t be sorry.”

“Hon,” The man gets up to go back to his own table, where his actual sugar daddy is eyeing Bruce with an inquisitive look, “It never ends well with married ones. Trust me.”

Clark slides back, and slumps as if the effort was too much for him. “Was she okay?”

“I didn’t expect her to wake up this soon.” Bruce gave her the tiniest amount. His calculations must have been off. Call him distracted.

“Don’t drug her again, Bruce.” Clark looks to where Lois disappeared, almost longingly.

“I won’t,” Bruce isn’t even lying. Clark has been so good tonight, he’s earned this moment of sincerity. “I promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

Is this Clark thought he would end up? No. Why else would he buy Lois that ring? He had different plans altogether.

Diana is a curveball. The other meta-humans don’t make sense at all. Bruce is in a whole new category.

Clark thought he would live happily ever after with his wife and mother and his memories of his fathers. He is starting to see that’s impossible. Bruce is making it impossible.

“I hate ties.” Bruce grumbles as Clark watches him dress.

What’s worse is Clark might not mind it so much. He doesn’t have the weight of the whole world on his shoulders anymore. He doesn’t have to answer to anyone. No dual identities to uphold. No job, or friends or family to constantly worry about. In these chains he is sort of free. It’s nice.

“Seriously,” Bruce laughs a little, “I feel like I’m choking.” He might make it look like he’s in home in all those suits but he gets sick of them sometimes.

“Then don’t wear one.” Clark suggests.

“That’s cute.” Bruce places a kiss on Clark’s forehead. “See you later.”

“Or you could not go.” Clark hates how vulnerable he sounds. It’s the anniversary of his father’s death, the only one he ever really knew anyway, hazard of a dual identity. Bruce must see the pain on his face because he is cancelling his plans on the phone, and whoever’s on the other end sounds miserable at this decision. Any other day of the year Clark would feel bad but right now he couldn’t give a crap because he’s questioning everything about himself.

“Done,” Bruce says, “What did you have in mind?”

“Can I call my mom?”

“Clark…”

“She doesn’t have to know it’s me, I…” Clark needs to hear her voice. “Just please, Bruce. Just let me have five minutes.”

Bruce is a good judge of mood. He’s freaking Batman for a reason, and dials Clark’s mother’s house by memory. Her voice on speaker phone fills the cold air of the lakeside.

“Mrs. Kent?” Bruce answers, looking afraid Clark is going to.

“Bruce?” The sheer familiarity and warmth in her tone floors Clark. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am.” Martha sounds surprised. “You can’t possibly know.”

“Know what.” Bruce knew he was forgetting something. He likes to think he memorized Clark’s file perfectly well and this date is significant but it’s not his ‘birthday’ or when he arrived on earth so it has to be…

“Well, it’s strange. I’m missing my husband and Clark just so much and then you call. It’s a sign of something I’m sure of it.”

Bruce takes the phone and finishes the call in the other room. When he comes back Clark has his head in his hands. “What can I do?” Bruce asks Clark who shakes his head, his eyes full of unshed tears. “There is nothing you can do for me, Bruce.”

“Think of something.” Bruce starts to remove the chains but Clark grabs his hands.

“Do you want them off?” Today of all days Clark needs to feel the physical pain.

“No,” Bruce admits. These chains are the only things keeping Clark here, and when they’re off, he’s gone, and Bruce will be alone again. Alfred’s paternal disapproval doesn’t count as companionship. Not anymore. The distance between them has increased lately and Bruce is lonelier than ever.

“Then leave them on, Bruce.”

“What now?” Bruce stands in front of a fallen angel, and feels no joy.

“Can you make me forget?”

“Be more specific,” Bruce is an expert at undressing fast, he owns a lot of suits. “Us?” He isn’t sure a drug out there exists that can accomplish quite that but Bruce is willing to look. Clark’s physiology might be tricky.

“No,” Clark laughs sadly, “Stupid.” He leans up to kiss Bruce and pulls back just as Bruce tries to deepen it.

“Oh,” Bruce doesn’t do comfort sex, he has sex _for_ comfort, like he drinks for comfort and he’s Batman for comfort. “Okay.”

Bruce’s entire life is an exercise in trying to nurse his wounds, forgetting awful, terrible things that happened to him.

“Pretend I’m someone you care about.”

“How?” Bruce asks, “Like love you?”

“Yes,” Clark seems so mournful, “Pretend you love me.” He wishes Lois were here. He misses her. She would make everything okay. Bruce’s sharp edges are fine, even welcomed on a normal day, but he’s hurt right now and he wants Lois’ warmth.

“I can do that.” Bruce’s lips quirk up in a smile. “I can love you.”

“Hold me?” Clark steps into Bruce’s embrace.

“I’m here,” Bruce can do gentle. He whispers in Clark’s hair, “Come on,” He carries the other man to bed, he always enjoys it when Clark wraps those long legs around his waist. “I’m here and everything is okay.”

“No it isn’t.” Clark seems to be having some kind of nervous breakdown. “Bruce please don’t lie to me.”

“Okay,” Bruce let’s Clark have a few minutes, because frankly Bruce is sick of himself, why should Clark be sick of Bruce. “Whatever you need.”

“I don’t know.” Clark mumbles in Bruce’s neck. “Just make it stop.”

“What?”

“All of it.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“If I was Diana, what would you do?”

Bruce is taken aback at the question. “God, she would have killed me by now.”

“If I was someone you respected,” Clark amends the question, “Not a whore, what would you do.”

“I respect you,” Bruce wants to keep Clark all to himself, forever. If that’s not respect then what is it? Wanting to possess someone completely, chain them to oneself. What else is there? Doesn’t Clark get it? Bruce might as well propose marriage here.

“Is this how you respect me?” Clark looks down at himself, naked and in chains, weak, debauched, “By keeping me here from my friends and family, the women I love, by repeatedly raping me?”

Bruce looks down where Clark is, at his handiwork, and can’t bring himself to be ashamed. “I would do it all over again. I’m sick.”

“If you weren’t sick,” Clark grabs Bruce’s jaw, “And you were in love with me for real. What would you do?”

“I would try to impress you,” Bruce admits, sheepish, “With wealth.”

“Wouldn’t work.”

“I know.” Bruce understand Clark that much. “You wouldn’t like the restaurants or the champagne, the gifts.”

“I’m a simple country boy.”

“I would show up at your place of work. Try to whisk you away.”

“I can literally fly, so that’s pointless.”

“I would eventually tell you I’m Batman, just to see what you’d say.” Bruce stares into Clark’s eyes, which are a different shade of inhuman blue every second. “And then ditch you because it’s not safe.”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Clark looks annoyed. “Your secret identity is there to protect you, Bruce.”

“You wouldn’t tell anyone, Clark.”

“And if someone was torturing me? Under some kind of genetically modified Kryptonian truth serum?”

“I would kill them,” Bruce says simply.

And Clark must be learning too because he isn’t trying to convince Bruce of the value of human life and they are simply kissing.

“I will fix it.” Bruce says in between worshipping kisses. “I promise.”

“Stop it, Bruce, stop talking. You lie when you talk,” Clark moans when Bruce pins him in his usual domineering manner and enters his body. Each time feels easier because Clark’s body seems to get more accustomed to the welcomed intrusion.

“Fuck, how is anything else supposed to compare to this?” Bruce asks, pistoning his hips in and out, trying to keep his rhythm gentle and failing. Once one has a Kryptonian lover there is no going back. Humans don’t cut it anymore.

“Don’t h-have a comparison,” Clark responds, tears falling from his eyes with rapid succession. He’s very emotional today, and the physical intimacy with another person he cares about feels so painful. His heart feels crushed in a fist. He can’t breathe.

“Shh,” Bruce slows down, his cock’s motion now a slow stroke in that tight, always wet for him hole, always ready for him, perfect, perfect Clark. “I will fucking kill anyone, okay, just say what you want and you got it, just ask for it.” He whispers growls in Clark’s forehead. “You have to ask for it, Clark, I can’t read your mind, tell me what you want, please.”

“Want it to stop hurting,” Clark whimpers, and for a second Bruce thinks it’s him, and it’s the fucking, because god, Bruce would never make it painful, and he would never touch Clark again if it was, but it’s emotional and Bruce has always failed at the emotional part.

“Tell me how.” Bruce is so slow he’s almost stopped now, buried to the hilt inside his bedmate, “Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t leave me,” Is all Clark can say because for now it’s all Bruce can do. “I c-can’t be alone.”

“You got it,” Bruce starts to move again but Clark takes the natural motions of sex as Bruce actually pulling out and leaving his body and the sound which escapes rosy lips is gut wrenching.

“You promised.” Clark says disbelievingly. “You can’t even stay for a fucking minute god, Bruce.”

“Sorry,” Bruce kisses Clark reassuringly, “Not going anywhere.”

Clark moans when they come together, tightening his legs around Bruce’s waist.

\----------

“My dear,” Martha opens her arms and accepts Lois into her embrace. “How are you?”

“I wish I didn’t know how you feel.” Lois has tears in her eyes and they hold each other for a long time.

“Oh sweetheart go date.” Martha smiles kindly. “It’s what he would want.”

“I couldn’t,” Lois admits. “I dream of him.” The visions get more vivid each day. It’s like he’s still out there, calling Lois to rescue him. She failed him in a big way, that’s for sure.

“I get the feeling.” Martha would give anything to give Clark again. “You are so young to grieve so much. Please move on.” Lois’ grief is so visceral, Clark wouldn’t want her to feel so much. Martha knows her boy. He was very pure and empathic.

Mankind didn’t deserve him at all.

“Is that from Wayne Enterprises?” Lois flinches at the letter on Martha’s desk.

“Oh yes,” Martha sighs, “I still have to deal with that. Bruce insists on taking care of everything around here. I keep telling him I can handle it but he won’t listen.”

“You know him?” Lois frowns, flowers in her hand that she needs to place on her would-be father-in-law’s grave.

“Clark must have been his friend.” Martha shrugs. “Bruce calls every other week. He showed up at the hospital that time I fell.”

At Lois’ flabbergasted look she is embarrassed. “Oh honey it was nothing. My husband’s pension even covered it. Bruce is just a little intense. He was even at Clark’s funeral, I don’t know if you noticed him.”

“I did.” Lois was so struck by her own pain at the time she barely noticed Bruce’s presence and there he was. It did get her over to Gotham city a few months later to talk to him.

“He was personally affected.” Martha looks sad. “He called and he said such nice things. I can’t believe I’m saying this but it was soothing. I lost a son and all and he doesn’t have a mother and call me silly but we may have some kind of bond.”

“You’re not silly.” Lois promises. _Naïve._ She wants to say but she would never disrespect this woman. Why not just disrespect Saint Mary while she’s at it. “You’re not alone.” She grabs Martha’s hand.

“I didn’t think I was, dear,” Martha squeezes Lois’ hand, troubled by the feel of Clark’s ring. “I am worried Clark’s memory might just consume you.” It is a very large memory, of a very large person. Superman and Clark Kent. Two people, a savior and an innocent farm boy. Lois might just go crazy trying to handle it, Martha knows the feeling. She is going through the thick and thin of it. She has Clark’s childhood experiences and teen photos and memories to get her through it all. Lois might not be so lucky.

“No,” Lois shakes her head. “I…”

“He’s dead.” Martha says, pained. “He’s not coming back and you need to accept it. I don’t have to but you are young and you have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I will just place these and go.” Lois kisses Martha’s cheek and walks backward with the flowers she brought for the grave. Neither woman pretends to notice the other’s tears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not seen Justice League, there may be minute spoilers which I may not have caught or even major ones, but not many. Please and thanks.

“Look, Bruce, about yesterday…” Clark doesn’t need Bruce thinking it was anything more than it was, about comfort on what is usually a terrible day for Clark. “I am sorry.”

“About?” Bruce forgoes the tie. Fuck it.

“I stepped out of line,” Clark admits. “We are purely physical, and I made it something more. I am sorry.” He hopes that if he apologizes on a repeat maybe it will come across. Bruce wants sex. Clark can provide. No way are they a couple and is Bruce obligated to be Clark’s significant other. He gave that ring to Lois and even that contract is void considering he is legally dead. Clark can’t be anything to anyone and he needs to accept it.

“Are you breaking up with me?” How can anyone not see Bruce is Batman? He oozes it, not even bothering to hide his voice most of the time, at least when he speaks to Alfred or Clark or Diana. “Please don’t. I can change.” His response is toneless.

“Bruce,” Clark says as he is easily cornered against a wall, they are pressed back to front, with Bruce’s hips pressed threateningly against Clark’s ass, not caring that he just dressed. He is quite easily willing to miss another day of work for this.

“Clark,” Bruce unzips his obscenely priced trousers.

“I just think we should keep it about the sex.” Clark refuses to be caught in Bruce’s spell. It’s better when Bruce takes him from behind and he isn’t distracted by rugged good looks and intense eyes.

“No.” Bruce presses a kiss on Clark’s hair.

Clark ignores the press of the blunt hardness against his hole and seriously, Bruce isn’t a teenager, how does a get hard so easily. Mental discipline or insanity?

“We will keep it about whatever I want it to.” Bruce wants power over Clark, perhaps the only thing he wants anymore personally. He thrusts leisurely, enjoying the slow, delicious slide of his prick, “You are tighter than any girl, you know that Clark?”

“Fuck,” Clark moans, finally responding sexually, thrusting back despite the bruising grip of Bruce’s hands on his hips.

“You like it when I fuck your hole, Clark?”

“Fuck,” Clark whimpers and comes all over the wall, embarrassed. “How can you say things like that?” He basks in the afterglow as Bruce stays hard inside him, still thrusting, bored.

“I don’t think you get what this is,” Bruce releases Clark’s hips, and grabs him around his waist instead.

“No,” Clark grabs Bruce’s arms, “I need you to understand, Bruce. We can’t get emotionally involved. It won’t end well.”

“Too late,” Bruce informs Clark, “And I meant what I said, I’m not leaving.”

“Bruce…”

“I…” Bruce accentuates every word with a punishing thrust inside the body he is considering to be his home, “Am. Not. Leaving.” He grunts out a quick release and presses a bruising kiss on Clark’s mouth after he turns the other man around.

“Did you mean that?” Clark is blushing when Bruce has changed clothes and made himself decent.

“I did.” Bruce narrows his eyes. “Not leaving.”

“About me being compared to other girls.” Clark hates that he blushes so much.

“You tell me,” Bruce reaches behind Clark and presses two fingers into a rosebud opening, ignoring the gasp, he scissors his fingers casually. “it’s a work of art. Best in Kryptonian technology.” He smirks when he reaches Clark’s prostate, something he doesn’t like to do usually. He is saving that for a special occasion.

“Pervert.” Clark rests his head against Bruce’s shoulder, too worked up to enjoy the scent of the other man’s cologne. What is this spot inside him Bruce keeps hitting? It’s magical. Bruce usually avoids it when they are fucking. Clark wishes he would hit it more often.

Bruce removes his fingers, enjoying the obscene sound, and sticks said fingers in his mouth as if licking delicious dessert sauce.

“Bruce,” Clark is horrified, even more so at the pornographic sounds the other man makes as if licking frosting.

Bruce forgets how virginal the other male still is. “When I come home, I am eating you out.” He threatens Clark, who mewls and recoils. Bruce is always so concerned with sticking his dick in the comely alien, he never tries anything new.

“You are sick.”

“You are a prude.”

“Am not.” Clark blanches. He has been on the receiving end of so much fucking these past few months, he is anything but a prude. If anything he is a deviant, considering how much he enjoys being raped by someone he supposedly trusts. He prays that trust doesn’t turn into love.

Considering Clark’s history he falls hard and fast and this has all the makings of love. Bruce is someone who has a hold over Clark and this will not end well because they need to work together and an enemy could take advantage of Clark’s romantic feelings for Bruce.

“You are going to prove it then,” Bruce says before he disappears, “You are going to spread those legs, and let me eat your pretty hole out.”

“Am not,” Clark calls out as Bruce walks away from him but there is no point. Clark always says no, but his body says yes. He likes being violated by Bruce.

\----------

“Master Clark,” Alfred is so polite and respectful and how? Clark is literally Bruce’s live-in slave. How can Alfred find it in himself to treat Clark like this? “Breakfast?”

“Tranquilizers.”

“Nothing which will affect you I’m afraid,” Alfred says good-naturedly. Elephant tranquilizers couldn’t knock out master Clark. Those awful glowing green chains do, keeping him subversive to the will of an insane man. An insane man Alfred thought he knew because why wouldn’t one know the person one had raised?

“So you know him?” Clark makes a strange face which Alfred has seen on Jim Gordon’s face.

It’s a mixture of fear and curiosity mixed in with admiration. It’s a healthy response. Even aliens have it apparently, so Bruce Wayne is a freak. Good to know.

“I do,” Alfred says kindly, “I have made some mistakes and I’m here. What’s your problem?”

“Same,” Clark shrugs. “I’m dead and he’s keeping me here.”

“You can leave at any point.” Alfred reminds Clark. “You can ask me to take the chains off and I will do it. Those are the instructions,” There it is, the daily reminder that Clark is technically free.

“He has to take the chains off,” Clark argues back and they are back there again, where they were twenty-four hours ago. “Alfred he has to trust me.”

“He doesn’t even trust me,” Alfred says dryly, “Where do you stand, young man?”

“He trusts you,” Clark says, troubled, “Right?”

“Well,” Alfred squints, “I did raise him and I am his accomplice in all this so no.” He smiles blankly, “He does not trust anyone, including himself nor you. We are all human and that is a flaw.”

“I am not human,” Clark reminds Alfred who is now studiously clearing the table. “I don’t have…” He doesn’t mean to sound arrogant but it needs to be said, “Flaws.”

“Right,” Alfred looks at Clark with poorly masked pity, “No flaws in you, Master Clark.”

\----------

“We will need to bring him back,” Diana states after they have tracked down the warrior sea god and the young orphan speedster who has readily agreed to join their ragtag team. “Bruce we need to bring Superman back.”

“It’s not that easy, Diana.” It is, but Bruce can’t be that eager. He’s still reeling from the memories the sight of Barry Allen brings back in him. He has to stay focused but Barry is young and there is naïve innocence in those eyes. Innocence which can be easily taken away because no matter how strong and well-trained, a young man is a young man and so much is out there ready to hurt and kill and maim.

Joke’s really on Batman now, isn’t it?

“Bruce?” Diana is frowning, a hundred years behind the twenty-something-year-old expression. “Are you listening.”

“No,” Bruce teases charmingly, “We are married already.”

“I was saying,” Diana rolls her eyes, “He will be disorientated when he comes back. We might need Lois.”

“Do we?” Bruce hides the scowl well. Ra’s al Ghul would be proud.

“Yes, we do.” Diana sees the minute changes in his expression. “What?”

“Superman will be new, reborn, I say we take those weaknesses out of his personality. He doesn’t need Lois.”

“Bruce,” Diana is genuinely surprised. Bruce is proud of himself for catching the goddess off guard. “She is his only link to humanity. We need her.”

“We can be that link.”

“I am not human,” Diana probes. “I know you feel guilty but don’t take this task on yourself. You don’t need to train Kal-El. You don’t need to be his anchor. That is a dangerous responsibility for someone who doesn’t have a rapport with a meta-human.”

“What?” Bruce is definitely listening now.

“My anchor was Steve,” Diana shrugs. Coy. “He still is. His memory keeps me grounded. Lois is Clark’s reason for being human. With all the physical powers we have, it’s easy to forget why we need to save anyone weaker than us. Meta-humans need human links, Bruce. Amazons and Kryptonians are no different.”

Bruce nods slowly. “Of course. We need Lois.” He will be damned if that woman gets anywhere near Clark now.

\----------

“Why?” Clark asks when they’re done with their frenzied romp. Bruce isn’t a teenager apparently and needs to recover, so he reminds Clark every chance he gets.

“Why what?” Bruce might not be twenty, but he isn’t exactly the geezer he thinks he is because of his constantly aching joints. He is even boyish looking in the evening’s light. Clark finds it charming.

“Why do you do anything?” Clark is a journalist but he can’t read people like Bruce does. It will take time to get there. The time he supposes he has now.

“When I see something beautiful I want to be inside it?” Bruce assumes Clark is asking why Bruce keeps fucking him.

Clark is so tired of blushing. “No, the bat thing.” All of Bruce’s life is a mystery. He could have been anything, gone anywhere with his resources, looks, intelligence. Hell Alfred alone is a big plus. Why is Bruce this creature of the night?

“Why are you Jesus?” Bruce asks, and Clark balks at the question.

“That’s blasphemous.”

“You sacrificed yourself for humanity’s sins and you were resurrected. You have two fathers. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What does that make you then?”

“Satan?” Bruce shrugs. “Diana would be one of those goddess things from a Greek religion. I don’t know what the other freaks are yet. One’s a sea god.”

“Don’t call them freaks,” Clark says defensively. “They are just trying to help.”

“You haven’t even met them yet.” Bruce is annoyed at Clark’s protectiveness over everyone living on planet earth. How can anyone this good and pure? Bruce can’t believe it despite shacking up with it all these months.

“You have to be kind to people Bruce. They are just trying their best.” Clark reminds the other man, who seems downright frustrated.

Too bad, Bruce can’t change Clark as a person, even if that’s exactly what Clark is trying to do to Bruce. Hypocritical much?

“Should I be kind to Lex Luthor?”

“In his own way, I am sure he thought he was doing the right thing.”

“What about the man who killed my son?” Bruce clearly didn’t mean to say that at all, Clark can tell. “What should I do about him?”

Clark pauses carefully. “You had a son?” He investigated Bruce quite a lot. There was never any mention of any children, by any women, legitimate or otherwise.

“I think so.” Bruce stares up at the ceiling. “He’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark grabs Bruce’s hand in a tight grip, and had he still possess his full powers, he would have accidentally crushed Bruce’s hand, that’s how strong his grip is. “No one should have to go through that.”

“There is a before him and an after him.” Bruce tries to explain but there is no explaining it properly. “After him is very grey.”

“I get that.” Clark went through something similar when his dad died. “It’s natural.”

“He was very young, Clark.”

“What can I do?”

“Try to understand not everyone is good?” Bruce begs Clark, who is now looming over him protectively, still managing to hover, when his powers of flight have been stripped because of the chains. “Please?”

“Okay,” Clark kisses a sharp cheekbone. “I know. I just try to be nice to everyone.”

“It bothers me.” Bruce grabs Clark around the waist until they are pressed together, body to body. “When you act all better than everyone.”

“Sorry.” Clark nuzzles Bruce’s neck. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“It’s because you are better than everyone and I kind of hate you for it.”

“If it helps I hate me too.”

“How can you possibly hate someone so perfect?”

“I’m not perfect, Bruce.” Physical perfection is one thing, but if it’s one thing Clark has learned, he is as badly damaged as Bruce is. They belong together, if not as lovers then at least as partners, which is something the world needs right now.

“Agree to disagree?” Bruce is alright again, clearly very practiced in compartmentalizing his pain in the dark recesses of his mind. “I don’t fuck non-perfect people.”

“Is that what this is?” Clark gestures to their arrangement. “You bring all your conquests to your rooms, tie them up, and keep them here until you get bored of them or am I just special?”

“I find the prettiest model,” Bruce explains to Clark who listens attentively, eager to learn everything Bruce and not just his cock, “bring her back to my place, fuck her, send her home the next day. One night stand, heard of it? Or did you give the first girl you meet a ring?”

“Deflection,” Clark knows it when he sees it.

“I just wanted to tie you up and punish you,” Bruce furthers his explanation. “I didn’t expect you to look so good when you were in bondage and on your knees.”

Clark thinks back to when Lex had him on his knees but wisely doesn’t mention it to Bruce who would not appreciate it very much and possibly kill Lex Luthor.

“I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” Bruce keeps going.

“You are very good at it.”

“Thank you.” Bruce looks prideful, an age-old sin of man. “And once I started I couldn’t stop. And here we are.”

“You couldn’t stop?” Clark leans in close so their lips are almost touching, “Why?”

“You are very good at taking it.”

“So are your other girls,” Clark fishes.

“I would rather have you.”

“Why.” Clark needs to know. “Why me Bruce.”

“I need to have power over you.” Clark is a god, and to possess him does something for Bruce’s ego that nothing else ever does anymore. Bruce has always had more money than everyone, he has always been better looking than everyone, he has always been stronger than everyone (although his aching joints would tell another story).

Clark is something new. Bruce wants. His primal hindbrain reaches for the Kryptonian as strongly as his higher consciousness does and this is something Bruce hasn’t felt since his twenties. It’s different. He needs this to feel alive.

“There it is.” Clark presses his forehead against Bruce, who seems surprised himself. “If you didn’t have it?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce is speechless. Maybe the innocent farm boy isn’t so clueless.

“So that’s all we are?” Clark looks panicked. “Some bondage and submission couple? Can't I be anything else to you? Your partner, your boyfriend? I am just your whore?”

Bruce’s dick twitches at the word whore in a way that isn’t missed by either man.

“So be it,” Clark is resigned to his fate. “You know Bruce at least I know where we stand now. You are no better than Lois.”

“Stop that,” Bruce sits up. He is particularly indifferent towards Lois but coming from Clark the comparison is downright abhorrent.

“She loves me because she thinks I am some angel from heaven and you love me because you want to control my power.” Clark is mortified at how upset he is. Maybe it’s the anniversary of his father’s death who was the only man who loved Clark for Clark. He doesn’t know. “I know it’s nonsense to think anyone will love just Clark Kent, but…”

“Fucking stop it.” Bruce grabs his biceps.

“You chained me.” Clark huffs. “I liked it because you don’t want my powers and that’s so fucking stupid because I thought you were different but you are the same kind of Lex Luthor freak…”

“Clark…” Bruce looks so hurt, the other man is forced to pause his rant. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark says mock obediently.

“We can be whatever you want to be,” Bruce promises. “You want some boyfriend, you got it.” Bruce is pretty sure he has never been anyone’s boyfriend but for Clark Kent, he is willing to give it the old college try.

“I don’t know what I want,” Clark admits, his mind incredibly clear. “We are both freaks, and we deserve this.”


	7. Chapter 7

“We need to bring you back.” It’s the beginning of the end. This is when Bruce loses Clark to mankind. The world cannot handle being godless for too long.

Because there are _magic boxes_ out to destroy them all. Sometimes Bruce wonders why he even bothers trying to stop it because one threat will just take the place of the last and maybe Earth _wants_ to be destroyed? Maybe extinction and death is the natural state of things and Bruce and Diana are wrong to get in the way of all that.

“How do you feel about that?’ Clark fingers the glowing green chains, ignoring the sharp burn he feels, “Ready to let me go?”

“I would rather kill us all.” Knowing Bruce he would do it too. “How should we do it?”

“You’re the genius billionaire, you figure it out,” Clark lets Bruce get him on his back, “How’s the team-building going?”

“Diana got a message from her home island wherever she is from,” Bruce groans when Clark automatically spreads his legs. The minx is learning. “No comment on the boy… Poseidon beat me up. I’m not sure what to do with the robot yet.”

“Poseidon beat you up?” There is both amusement and protectiveness in Clark’s tone. “Are you okay?”

“Just light choking nothing else.” Bruce tries not to feel all warm because of Clark’s concern.

“You probably deserved it.” Clark is annoyed still, his burned fingers trace Bruce’s throat and the bruises marring his neck. “Seriously, Bruce, are you okay?”

“I wanted him to do it in front of you and see what happens.”

“You want men to fight over you, freak,” Clark says fondly. “He’s strong and I am weakened by the chains, I’m sure he would get a good punch in here and there.”

“Then I would kill him.”

“Bruce, he was able to choke you easily, you don’t get to kill him,” Clark feels like a school boy, gasping with the effort of keeping a straight face because Bruce is placing butterfly kisses on his throat. “Are we telling them about our relationship?”

If it were up to Bruce, Clark would never even leave here. Unfortunately, Clark’s powers are needed or there will be no world left for them to live on. Pity, this is possibly the happiest Bruce has ever been. He feels complete. It figures that it takes an alien from outer space to compete Bruce Wayne. What does it say about Bruce as a person? How badly fucked up is he?

“Bruce?” Clark gives the other man a worried look. “Are we telling people?” He repeats himself. Sometimes he needs to repeat himself because Bruce gets this lost, longing look in his eyes when he looks at Clark. As if he’s the answer to some unanswered question. It’s the same look Lois used to get. Clark is uncomfortable, unsettled by it. He never asked to be anyone’s savior but he gets stuck in that position. Hazards of being Superman. “Do you want the team to know we are lovers?”

“Do you want to?”

Clark blushes. “I don’t care. Lois…”

“We will deal with her adequately.” Bruce won’t and can’t hurt her. He can still fantasize she wasn’t in the picture and Clark wasn’t distracted by her. He completely disagrees with Diana’s approach of having her back in Clark’s life but what’s to be done about her?

Should Bruce have her killed? He will lose Clark forever and immortalize her memory.

Should he forbid Clark from seeing her? How does he forbid a fully grown man from seeing the love of his life?

How does he forbid a god from seeing a nosy, tenacious woman who is a Pulitzer prize winning thorn in Bruce’s side?

“Bruce, what will I tell my mother?” The grief in Clark’s voice has him snapping out of his fantasy of a Lois-less world.

“Clark,” Bruce remembers glimpses of his mother and it still haunts him. To have years of a mother’s love can mess a man up in different ways and Clark is proof of that. They are both Martha’s victims, that much they have in common. “You will tell her whatever you can both handle.”

Clark nods wordlessly. “I love Lois, Bruce. I can never stop loving her.”

There it is. Hanging between them like a miasma that threatens to poison them.

“I understand that.” Bruce smiles hollowly.

“I don’t think that you do.” Clark reaches for Bruce when he tries to pull away. “Bruce, she is a part of me, and so are you.”

Bruce cocks his head to the side, no malice in his gaze, just curiosity. “So you will date both of us?”

“I won’t lie to her.” Clark tells Bruce plain and clear. “She has to know about us.”

“Fine.” Bruce isn’t complaining about that at all.

“I will accept her reaction, whatever it is,” Clark seems resigned to his fate. “If she hates me then so be it.”

Bruce doesn’t bother explaining that there is no hating Clark Kent for any reason, even his enemies. Lois is so far from that category that it is laughable. It is the one thing that binds Bruce and Lois in the most permanent way. They are both ruined for anyone else.

“Kiss me?” Clark asks, as if Bruce could ever say no. “What are we going to do?” He wonders as Bruce tries to leave marks on his skin and fails as usual.

“I’m going to masturbate to pictures of you,” Bruce pats Clark’s hip as if signaling a stallion for mating, and smirking when Clark turns over, presenting himself, “You can go off with your fiancé and have perfectly suburban farm sex.”

That startles a laugh out of Clark, his face buried in a pillow. “That’s not fair.”

“Did you and Lois ever?” Bruce presses kisses down Clark’s back, watching the muscles shift with hungry eyes.

“Of course we did, Bruce she was my fiancé,” Clark gasps when Bruce starts sucking a kiss into his right gluteus Maximus. “Nothing this kinky.”

“Good boy,” Bruce says approvingly. “I have taught you well.”

“Bruce,” Clark whines, “I don’t think I can use any of this information on her.”

“Now now,” Bruce says between licking and lapping Clark’s hole like it’s his favourite dessert, and nowadays it is, “That’s not a positive attitude.”

“Fuck,” Bruce has found a new way to torture him. “Bruce I am b-begging you.”

“What?” Bruce appreciates lube but Clark deserves a more personal touch. “Is something wrong?” He wonders aloud, his tone laced with innocence.

“I n-need you inside me.” Clark has learned that it’s better to just ask for what he wants or Bruce will keep torturing him. The Wayne heir has a sadistic streak and he is not afraid to take it out on Clark.

“Maybe I don’t want you.” Lies. Bruce wants Clark more than he wants air.

“Liar,” Clark keens when Bruce casually fucks his tongue out of his hole in an imitation of fucking. “Bruce, please.”

“Tell me you love me,” Bruce has never cared if it’s true. He just has to keep hearing it. “Make it sound real.” He warns, placing a threatening kiss on Clark’s lower back.

“You know I l-love you, Bruce, fuck.” Clark loves almost all of Bruce, and he can learn to love the rest of the broken pieces. He is resilient that way.

“You shouldn’t be swearing,” Bruce almost regrets having to stop mouthing the pretty pink hole awaiting his cock. He could do this all night, see if he can make Clark come like this, if they have the stamina and patience for it. “Sets a bad example for us mortals.”

“Maybe I’m t-tired of s-setting examples?” Clark lets out a sigh of relief at being filled that is downright pornographic. Bruce would have to kill anyone else who heard it and he gets very murderous over Clark he realizes that.

“Maybe you just want to be a kept boy?” Bruce drapes himself over Clark’s back, only moving his hips against the other male’s, snapping them back and forth only slightly. Clark isn’t complaining, moaning happily and humping back against the larger man and against the bedsheets to get some friction against his cock.

“I was kept when you saw me.” Clark wishes they could stay like this forever. The world outside holds nothing but lies and in here Clark is himself, naked. Better to be a madman’s toy then to be at the entire world’s constant beck and call and fall short every time.

“I targeted you and made you mine,” Bruce wishes that were true. He wishes he had complete possession over Clark.

Clark’s eyes roll back in his head when Bruce grabs his hips with both hands and aims for a single spot inside him which has him keening with pleasurable pain. “Bruce,” He screams.

Bruce aims for Clark’s prostate and tries to keep himself from coming when the perfect tightness around his cock spasms deliciously but he can’t help it. It’s too good. Even for a richer than god man who has experienced every pleasure, fucking the embodiment of perfection is something Bruce has never experienced and he can’t help but lose control spilling himself despite wanting to last much longer.

“What was that?” Clark wonders. He came without being touched.

“I wanted to wait until our wedding night but...” Bruce starts to say but Clark swats at his head. “What?” Bruce says, “You can put a ring on Lois’ finger but the thought of following tradition with me is repulsive?” Bruce knows he is ridiculous. Clark makes him that way. Now he knows why religious fanatics exist. Bruce is worshipping a god and it’s making him crazy.

He finally understands religion. He has a lot of apologies to make.

“Why do you compare yourself to Lois?”

“I think we have a lot in common.” Bruce reminds Clark, “I would argue I am a better fit for you than her.” There, he said it. “Tell me you feel differently.”

“Bruce,” Clark’s eyes are soft. “I never argued that. Not once.”

“Then why do you have to go back to her?” Bruce has a spoiled child deep down inside him which is scared to lose his toy. That’s what this is. Right? Bruce is losing the most priceless toy he has and he is acting out. That’s all it is.

“I am going back to my life that I had before you brought me here,” Clark runs a soothing hand through Bruce’s hair, “Lois is a big part of that. You are sending me back. I am perfectly fine being here, being your prized slut.”

“You are _not_ a slut.” Bruce growls, looming over Clark like the creature he is supposed to be. “Break up with her.”

“If I’m not a slut then how do you treat your whores?” Clark isn’t fazed at all, staring Bruce dead in the eyes, “I have a feeling when I tell Lois everything she will dump me.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“When I tell her,” Clark’s hand cups the back of Bruce’s head and pulls him close, “That I haven’t been dead for months and instead have been a sex slave and enjoyed it, I think she is going to have an opinion. She is an intelligent woman, Bruce.”

“You sure have a high opinion of her,” Bruce mutter petulantly.

“I put a ring on her finger, of course I respect her.”

“What about me?” Bruce asks the dreaded question and he realizes he sounds absolutely pathetic.

Religion is supposed to make you vulnerable.

“What do you want?” Clark keeps petting Bruce, and the power is his again. Somehow he has turned this situation around for himself and he is the one holding Bruce’s fate.

“I want you.”

“I will…” Clark blushes and Bruce wants to bottle this feeling he gets whenever Clark does anything attractive.

Everything Clark does is attractive to him.

“I will…” Clark tries again. “I will keep putting out, Bruce.”

“Where did you learn that terminology?” Bruce can’t help but tease even in this grave situation.

“Television.” Is Clark’s petulant response. “You.”

“Lois?” Bruce cannot help the hateful expression he makes when he thinks of her, or says her name.

“I can’t hurt her.” Clark lowers his eyes. “I will be honest with her.”

Bruce hopes that will drive Lois away but anyone stubborn enough to have a Pulitzer prize won’t give up on someone they think they love.

Clark is not anyone to give up on. Even Bruce, with an inability to form a romantic attachment to anyone is in trouble.

“You can’t murder her, Bruce.” Clark reminds the other man, who has a familiar expression on his face.

“I know,” Bruce says defensively. “I was thinking of criminals.”

“Named Lois?”

Bruce wishes he could have her arrested for trespassing on his relationship.

\----------

Clark knows he has to go back but he doesn't want to and when Alfred takes chains off and apologizes profusely, all Clark can do is nod shakily.

He misses the burn of the chains which makes him suspect Bruce messed with the kryptonite a little, diluted its power somehow to make it less painful.

"We have to go bury you now." Bruce is standing far away, near the edge of the room, Clark can still hear him sharp and clear. It is not as painful as when he was young but it still burns to have his powers back. The levitation stings his ankles and knees. "You have to attack us. You hate me."

"I..." Alfred looks between them, back and forth. "How will this relationship work exactly?"

"That is on a need to know basis." Bruce exhales as if breathing in and out is taking significant effort.

"Am I still on that list or..." Alfred wonders aloud as Clark dares approach the brooding bat. "Can you tell my mom first? I would rather she not hear it from the news."

"It will all go according to plan." Bruce promises Clark who leaves the room after a probing glance which might as well be x-ray vision.

"Where did I go wrong with you?" Alfred makes it sound like a joke but it is very much a serious query.

"The batman thing."

..........

"I can do it." Barry looks at them all, at Bruce eagerly and Bruce can’t handle another young man giving him that look. As if he’s got all the answers. He should never be anyone’s father again.

Ordinarily Bruce wouldn’t care all that much except that this boy is strong and Clark has been in Kryptonite chains since his death. Bruce now gets why people are so protective of their religious beliefs. Bruce is very protective of the alien god he managed to trap in his lakeside.

It all goes according to plan and Clark throws a newsworthy tantrum. Diana and Arthur are suitably appalled to see the final piece of their puzzle acting so unfit.

Bruce is kind of delighted when Clark slams him against a pavement. Who said Clark cannot act? If Bruce didn’t know any better Clark hates him.

Or Clark pretended to not hate him back at their love nest and this is real.

Why does that hurt? If Clark killed him in a self-righteous fury Bruce deserves it. He has it coming. Oh god, Bruce has so much coming he hopes there is a hell and he goes straight to it.

Clark acts according to plan until he doesn’t and that hateful gaze is directed toward Barry.

How is Bruce supposed to protect Barry from Clark?

Lucky for him Clark is not interested in doing any actual damage. Thank god. Thank Clark.

It’s still deeply arousing, somewhere deep down and not noticeable under all the heavy armor, that Bruce managed to enslave all that power and made it his own.

Bruce has never felt this amazing. He’s pretty sure he fractured something and he will never recover from the beat his heart skipped from when Clark stared Barry down. He still feels good because he has Clark, really has him.

Reality comes crashing down on his head when Lois appears. The look Clark gives her... he may be a good actor but the love and longing in that blank expression... Bruce is in trouble.

Clark Kent does not give a woman a ring and just give up on that relationship. The sex between Bruce and Clark was forced but the love Clark has for Lois is authentic. Clark would move a mountain for this woman.

Bruce is powerless against that.

"I don’t think they are coming back." Arthur is literally pouting.

"Are you okay?" Diana did not buy Bruce's nonchalant quip or his attempt to walk off both the physical and emotional slamming he just received.

"Ask me after a full body imaging scan." Bruce winces. That's what he gets for hanging with the wrong crowd.

"Should we go after him?" Barry seems more spooked than usual, as if he's seen a ghost.

"Are you volunteering?" Arthur smirks at Barry who shudders.

Victor hasn’t said a word. He has been staring at Bruce probingly this entire time.

..........

"Don’t you ever leave me again." Martha wraps her arms around Clark, hugging him close as if he’s four again. "Don’t you dare."

"Mom." Clark starts to say. "I am so very sorry."

"She was good." Martha nods at Lois who is off to the side, giving them a moment. "Clark she loves you so much."

"Of course she does." Lois loves Clark. It’s obvious.

"She went insane when you..." Martha has to pause because it is too hard to say. "When you were gone."

A wave of guilt rocks Clark's body, that and shame. He cheated on Lois the entire time he was in limbo.

"What?" Martha can read every expression on Clark's face which comes in handy when her child really is special as every mother imagines hers to be.

"I was bad."

"No, you weren't."

Martha doesn't have to know what Clark did. He is perfection, her pure angel. He is proof that there is good and hope in this world.

"Mom." Clark tries to explain, "I cheated on Lois."

"When you were dead?" Martha is surprised. "Honey are you sure it actually happened? Maybe you had one of those coma dreams?"

"I slept with someone." Clark blushes and it's quite horrible to speak to his mother about this but he has no one else to talk to about this.

That might mean something in the grand scheme of things.

"Whoever she is," Martha stares at Clark like he is the sun and she cannot believe he has risen. "She is lucky, but you need to do right by Lois."

"I don't know how this happened." Clark is astonished. Just a few months ago he couldn't imagine being with anyone but Lois and now... now he wants Bruce to keep him. He also wants to keep Bruce.

It isn't the kind of straightforward romantic love his Ma and Pa and possibly his birth parents had. Clark wants something awful and sinful. Something no church pastor would approve of.

"Don't ever leave me again." Martha has only one thing on repeat on her lips and her mind. "Bruce Wayne was good."

"Oh?" Clark can't wait to hear his mother's side of this. Bruce can do whatever he wants to Clark but one paper cut on his saint of a mother and Clark will murder him.

"Someone has competition for best son." Martha winks at Clark who has a shocked expression on his face.

"I know." Lois says when Martha rushes off to prepare a meal. "She doesn't know Bruce like we do." She has heard the end of their conversation and is not surprised at Clark’s surprise at all.

"What?" Clark turns to Lois whose lips tremble a little.

"Something is wrong with him, Clark. He should be in jail."

Lois isn't wrong but Clark wouldn't let that happen.  Luthor belongs in prison, not Bruce. There is good in Bruce which can benefit the world.

Clark never realized he could find his other half. If he has one, Bruce Wayne is it.

What does that say about Clark Kent?

"You've changed." Lois blinks tears away. "He did something to you."

"No, he didn't. Lois please just listen." Clark tries not to crowd her.

"He took you from me." Lois says, distressed.  "He has everything and he took my everything."

Clark could pretend that Lois is crazy and this is all based on nothing but he isn't that man.

He is not a man. Lois shouldn't be involved. With a freak. He is made of the same material Doomsday was. It's good to know what one is made of.

Clark already risks his mother's life time and time again but he's brought another person into this and that's on him.

"Can we do this another time?" Lois is looking behind Clark, addressing his mother. 

"Anytime you want dear." Martha promises but her voice calls on deaf ears. Lois heels are already clicking away.

"Did I just make a mistake?" Clark asks his mother who looks tired already. Should Clark have stayed away and given her some peace? 

"I know what its like to love you Clark." Martha reminds her son. "It involves a lot of dedication." She turns back toward the kitchen. "There is no getting over you."


End file.
